Page 40
“That’s ridiculous.” She snorted and shook her head, bumping his chin. She almost giggled at his grunt of pain. Instead, she focused on the absurdity of their reasoning. “Even now Bryston is takin’ Etherin’ton to London, and by this afternoon, ye’ll have Montieth in custody, as well.”
Did he know something he wasn’t telling her?
“’Tis wise to never underestimate the enemy, my sweet.”
He still held her hand, and she had no desire to remove it—especially when he called her his sweet.
“I understand leavin’ Edinburgh,” she said. “Especially if Keane says we’re on a weddin’ trip, but canna we go home?”
“Nae. No’ for now.” His expression grew serious. “We’ll have to discuss where we are to live until…” Rolling a shoulder, he said, “Och, until we decide what path our futures will take.”
“I take it ye didna mention the annulment to Keane.’
Camden slowly grazed his big, rough fingers along her jawline.
Bethea’s breath caught on a half-sigh, half-gasp as desire, unexpected and undeniable, jolted her.
He really must stop doing that. His touch proved terribly—deliciously—distracting. It made her want more, want to explore whatever this was between them. And that was perilous because once they tripped down that convoluted road of passion and desire, there could never be any turning back.
They would remain man and wife for the rest of their lives.
Camden might want her in the way a man did a woman, and he’d certainly raised her interest in the forbidden subject, but neither had entered the arrangement willingly. And both had done so with the expectation they’d gain their freedom again.
She cleared her throat and repeated her question, positive the mention of Keane would curb Camden’s ardor as much as it did hers. “Keane disna ken about our agreement?”
Camden chuckled, his chest vibrating with his mirth.
“Nae. I have nae wish to be on the receivin’ end of my cousin’s wrath. I count myself fortunate he didna throttle me for marryin’ ye without his blessin’.” He quirked a sardonic eyebrow. “God’s ballocks, can ye imagine his reaction if I told him we intended to annul the union?”
Gazing at their intertwined fingers, hers small and pale, and his thick and sun-browned, she murmured, “He’d never permit me to go to Culloden with ye, and then the elopement would be exposed as a farce.”
“Exactly.” He squeezed her hand and winked, but his previous humor had vanished. “I always kent ye were an intelligent lass.”
A long moment went by, each absorbed in their thoughts. Circumstances had irrevocably woven their together lives together in a complex tapestry: nae, a tangled knot. Even after the dissolution of their marriage, they’d no doubt encounter each other. Not only was Camden Keane’s cousin and Marjorie’s former brother-in-law, but he was also close to her and her daughters.
Bethea and Camden would see each other from time to time, unless she married another and moved away. That unwarranted thought made her positively ill.
“I must be off.” With a sigh, he straightened and, at last, relinquished her hand.
An odd bereftness bathed her.
Sitting beside Camden in comfortable silence, listening to the regular rhythm of his breathing while holding his hand filled her with a deep peace and contentment.
“We’ll leave as soon as I return, lass, nae matter how late the hour.” He tilted her face to his and brushed a light kiss across her lips.
Again, she felt as if he kept something from her, and she opened her mouth to ask what, but then decided against the impulse.
She stood as he did and walked with him to the door. Bethea laid a hand on his arm. “Camden. Ye will be careful, willna ye? Montieth’s a deceptive snake. I dinna ken what he’s capable of.”
His eyes softened, the warmth in their depths doing peculiar things to her bones, and he gathered her near. She willingly stepped into his embrace. Nothing felt as natural or right as being in his arms. “I promise, Bethea.”
He kissed her forehead, then her temple then her nose, and finally settled his molded mouth upon hers. She clutched his shirt as sensation encapsulated her. One touch from this man and she forgot—well, everything.
The kiss went on and on and on. Hunger grew within her to know him in every way a woman could know a man. He’d only been her husband for a few hours, but already, she didn’t know how she’d let him go.
He drew away first, his breathing ragged. “I promise ye, lass. I’ll be careful.” He gave her a devilish wink. “I have a new bride and a weddin’ trip to look forward to.”
Then he was gone.
Bethea stood there with one hand on her heart, and her fingertips touching her still throbbing lips, as a shocking, wholly inconceivable thought kept repeating in her mind, over and over and over.
I dinna want an annulment.
